


Triangle

by BardsAmbrosia



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Multiple Personality Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsAmbrosia/pseuds/BardsAmbrosia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen King once wrote, "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Touching your face, you felt the cold chill of your finger tips. They were wet. You can feel the pain in your stiff hand as you clutch the butchers knife.

 

You don't know why that's in your hand and you panic when you notice the unmoving man on the floor. There's rips in his green and white stripe unbutton up shirt and there's blood where the rips are and on his face. Bright red everywhere. 

 

His mouth is open, blood oozing more on one side than the other.

 

You drop the knife and when its clatters on the wooden floor, you wake up and become even more aware of your surroundings. You move back and slip on the bloodied wood. You fall hard on your behind and hit your head against the cabinet door.

 

You gasp in pain and clutch the back of your head with a red hand. 

 

Your body is trembling like your naked in the cold of a wintered forest. You feel like throwing up.

 

You can feel the hot vile in the back of your throat as you're eyes meet the sprawled out body before you again.

 

You don't know who that is or how you got here. You can feel now that your feet are bare and cold and wet. You get up, using the counter behind as leverage. You look down to examine yourself. You are in your underwear.

 

There's blood on your arms, stomach and legs. 

 

You slowly make your way around the body and out of the kitchen. The home is spacious and modern styled. Its the kind of home a person with many a coin would own.

 

The wooden floor is endless.

 

You need clothes. You see a crumbled shirt and skinny jeans in a lose pile on the floor by a expensive looking couch.

 

You feel tears prick your eyes and you blink rapidly to keep them away.

 

It happened again.

 

You blacked out.

 

And now you're bloody in a dead man's home.

 

You don't call the police. You find your shoes by the door.

 

You just leave into the late night.


	2. Chapter 2

After 3 hours of walking in the dark. You make it back to your apartment. Its in the early morning. Its dark, but there's a faint light on the horizon. 

 

Your head is killing you. 

 

This is the fifth time this has happened. You're scared and confused. You can't tell anyone about this. You can't even explain it.

 

You scratched at the dried blood on your face. You needed a shower.

 

You don't have a bag on you or your key. You panic before you remember there's a spare under the door mat.

 

You unlock it and hurry inside. 

 

You lean against the door and eye what's around you.

 

Its not really a home.

 

You don't have pictures because you have no pleasant memories. You don't have special and personal belongings, because you don't-- you just don't.

 

Just the bare the necessities.

 

While you shower, your mind is jumbled with images you don't want to remember. Not just from only hours ago, but from days and weeks ago.

 

You always wake up, when you're victims never are to wake up again.

 

You can't go to jail or some mental institute. You waited a long time for your freedom. 

 

You aren't that little girl no one would adopt at the orphanage.

 

You don't have to be the kid who has to fight for her own bed and clothes.

 

No longer would you be that sexually abused teenager, that just sat back and took what was thrown at her.

 

You have your own bed, clothes, food, and life-- you control your life now. You belong to you.

 

You think you do and you really want to believe that, so you do.

 

You want to cry, but can't and you feel angry. Your hands feel slightly numb and jittery. 

 

The shower is getting cold now, so you get out.

 

You dry off and just crawl into bed.

 

You don't get any sleep.


End file.
